Into the Crater
by William Easley
Summary: The Pines Twins descend into a meteorite crater-and into the troubles in their own family.


**Into the Crater**

"You realize," Stan said as they emerged from the woods and the devastated swath of forest lay before them, "that you an' me are a little long in the tooth for this kinda stuff."

It was the afternoon after Summerween, and Ford had insisted on hiking out to the meteor crater to examine it. Dr. Henry Tremaine had flown back home to Arkham, Massachusetts, the morning before, and while Ford told Stan that he didn't expect to find anything dangerous, he insisted that just to be on the safe side, they ought to give the place a closer look now that hot weather undoubtedly had dried the mud. "And," he said, "it would be safer for two to go instead of one."

They came well-equipped this time, with a bright yellow nylon rope over three hundred feet long—long enough to tie to one of the sturdier broken trunks and still give them plenty of line for descending into the crater and climbing back out.

"So I drew the short straw," Stan said as they started to climb the ridge—much easier now that the footing was firmer after drying out.

"I know you wouldn't want to come along," Ford said. "That's why I wanted to bring Dipper instead. He's younger and more agile."

"More like _fragile_ , ya mean, Poindexter," Stan said.

Ford looked at his brother in surprise. "What? He's recovering from his injuries just fine!"

Stan slid about four feet back down."Dang, I thought I'd grabbed a root, not a loose branch. Yeah, well, there's worse injuries than getting' your head banged up or your butt shot full of darts," Stan said, grunting with effort. They reached the top of the ridge—one wall of the meteorite crater—and stared down into the wide funnel-like hole in the earth. "Who first?"

"Me," Ford said. They moved to the lip of the crater, and Ford tossed the coil so the yellow rope trailed down over the edge. "I know where to step. You follow me down, but come carefully, and look for my footprints for the safest route."

"Jeeze Louise, it ain't as if we're climbin' up and down the freakin' Matterhorn," Stan said. "What is it, thirty, forty feet down?"

"Somewhere in that range. Put on your gloves, or you'll get a bad rope burn." Ford donned his own special six-fingered pair and then pulled the rope taut. He used the tension to let himself walk backward, at a decided tilt from vertical, until he reached the bottom. "You next," he called up.

Stan, in khaki jeans, tan shirt, rawhide gloves, and boots, looked a little strange—almost identical to Ford, in fact, with his khaki shirt and pants, his black gloves, and his hiking boots. Ford chuckled a little. "Dipper and Mabel were certainly inventive in their Summerween costumes," he said conversationally, but loudly enough for the descending Stan to hear. "Imagine coming to the party as you and me!"

Stan was struggling a little, slipping now and then. "That's—'cause—we're _family,_ Ford. They—love us." He got down to where Ford stood on a little shallow bowl of more or less solid earth. "You know what? Shermy was the smartest one of us three. I really wish I'd married and had kids. Dipper an' Mabel mighta been grandkids instead of great-nephew and niece."

"I have my own regrets in that regard," Ford confessed. "Of course, in my case I wasn't exactly in a position to find a nice woman and settle down. Most of the females I came across in the alternate dimensions were either totally alien in physiology or, if humanoid, were either already taken, looked upon me as potential food, or had no interest in me at all, for some reason."

"Yeah, I wonder why," Stan said. "Well-p, looks like a hole to me."

Ford had brought a metal pole. He probed into the central cavity, the size of a large beach ball, where the meteor had been. "Nothing solid," he said. "I think every trace of the thing must have vaporized in that flash of energy." He knelt and with a flash took a few photos. "What did you mean just now when you said Dipper might have worse injuries?"

Stan tapped his head. "Inside here, Ford. I dunno how it happened, but Mabel got all the self-confidence in their family. You might have noticed she's the outgoin' type."

"I have observed that," Ford said with a smile.

"Yeah, well, Dipper's more like you. Brainy type. What do you call it, an introvert. He's hard on himself, Ford. Way too hard. I think he idolizes you, to tell the truth—in his eyes, you can do no wrong. He keeps comparin' himself to you, an' of course he falls short. But, hell, he should understand he's only fourteen!"

"He's a very _advanced_ fourteen-year-old," Ford insisted. "He can understand college-level mathematics. He's a keen observer, researcher, and reasoner. And he writes well, too. And he's certainly got courage in facing up to the paranormal events and creatures he's encountered."

"Yeah, that an' five smackers'll get him a coffee at Starbuck's!"

"I don't follow you."

Stan sighed. "OK, let's cut to the chase. Dip's got a thing for Wendy. You musta observed that!"

"Well, it's a little hard not to notice," Ford said.

"Yeah, remember how I just now said I wish I'd married an' had kids? Ford, that's the biggest single regret of my life! Even worse'n accidentally shooting you through that cockamamie Portal."

"I guess I'm not bothered," Ford said easily, "because coming in second is nothing to sneeze at."

"Be serious. Ever since he got Wendy all upset, Dipper's like a lost soul. Haven't you noticed that? See, he's toward Wendy the way he is toward you—puts her on a pedestal, thinks she's the greatest gal who ever walked the earth. Well, she _is_ pretty damn competent, I'll give her that! She's gutsy an' smart in her own way and like Dipper, she's mature for her age. I've seen her grow up a lot since she was fifteen an' always goofin' off at work!"

Ford gave him a sharp glance. "Always goofing off? And you didn't fire her?"

"Naw," Stan said, glaring at his brother. "'Cause she was kinda-sorta like the daughter I wish I'd fathered. And I could already see she had good stuff in her. I knew she'd grow up and turn out right. You know why I hired her in the first place?"

Ford had taken out a tape measure and was measuring the cavity from side to side. "Eighty-nine point four centimeters." With a ballpoint, he jotted that number down on a pocket pad. Then he said, "What? Why'd you hire Wendy? Because you needed a cashier?"

"Yeah, but that coulda been anybody! Naw, Manly Dan and me got to talkin' over beers just before school let out that year, an' he told me he didn't like how Wendy was wastin' her time with that Robbie guy an' his lousy friends, so he was gonna send her up north to this loggin' camp that she hated. He said they'd keep her busy twelve hours a day, seven days a week, straighten her out." Stan shrugged. "I already knew Wendy. She came into the Shack sometimes when she was a real little girl. Her and me would joke around together. So I kinda felt sorry for her. I says to Dan, 'What if she gets a job here in town?' He says to me, 'Only if she's workin' for a real tough sonofagun who'll keep her nose to the grindstone.'"

"So you said you'd hire her."

"Naw, I pretended like it just occurred to me and asked, reluctant-like, 'Well, I've been thinkin' I need some help in the shop. What about me?' An' Dan like to've busted a gut laughin'. He let her sign up to work at the Shack 'cause he thought I was like him, a real hard-ass. She was glad enough to get outa goin' to the camp to come work for me. She mighta been a little scared that I _would_ lean on her. But a girl like Wendy, she's like a flower, ya know? Put it in too tight a pot, it dies. Oh, I knew full well she'd slip up to the roof when business was slack, and that she'd sneak off to have fun with her friends from time to time. Knew she'd be lazy. But ya know, when I needed her, she always came through. She's ten times more responsible now that she was at fifteen. She's the woman Dipper's gonna need."

Ford stood up, making a few more notes in his pad. "Well, then it's good that they like each other."

"Would be, if Dipper would get his head outa his butt an' realize that he's right for her, just like she is for him! Trouble is, he don't think he's good enough for her. Just like he don't think he'll ever measure up to you."

Ford tucked his pad back into his pocket and fiddled with his glasses. "I—Stanley, I don't know how I can be any help. Because, frankly, I've never been much good at discussing emotional issues."

"Yeah, too bad, 'cause he wouldn't listen to me. Prob'ly not even to Mabel. He knows us too well."

Ford idly probed into the hole again and again, not finding a thing. "Well—I could _try_ to talk this over with him. What should I say?"

"Just tell him the truth, Brainiac. He's a good kid, way above average. The way he feels about himself, well, that's 'cause he useta get bullied so much, Mabel says. An' his mom. I like her an' all, an' you sure can see her in Dipper, but Mabel says she pushes real hard. Dipper gets an A, she wants to know what it would take to get an A-plus. Dipper comes in second in a track meet, she wants to know why he wasn't concentratin' enough to take the win. He needs to see himself the way others do. He ain't never gonna be good enough to please himself."

"Dipper's his own worst critic," Ford said in a far-away voice. "I . . . know how that feels."

"Yeah. An' when he slips up, he either blames himself, or he starts thinkin' that other people are schemin' against him. That really worries me, Ford."

"It's pretty normal for teens, though," Ford said. "And even for adults. I admit there have been times in my life when I've been a touch paranoid."

"Ya think?" Stan asked with a sour grin. "Like, oh, I dunno, when your brother, who you hadn't seen in like ten years, comes to visit, you jam a loaded crossbow in his face an' give him an eye exam? Remember how _you_ felt then? That's how Dipper feels now."

Ford scratched his head. "I _was_ pretty distrustful and defensive. Is Dipper's problem really serious? Should we get him some professional counseling?"

"I don't think he's clinical," Stan said. "He just needs more of our attention. More reassurance. He's got it in him to be a good man and a real successful one. I just wanna help him along, that's all." He slumped a little. "If it was Mabel needed talkin' to, I'd have no problem. Her an' me are on the same wavelength. But Dipper an' me—well, I love him like a son, but he's been suspicious of me since I kept the Portal secret from him that first summer. Lookin' back, it was prob'ly a mistake lettin' 'em come to stay in the Shack that year, but their parents really wanted 'em to connect with the rest of the family, an' of course they thought I was you—and, heck, I was lonely!"

"I never told you this, Stanley," Ford said, "but, though you did risk destroying the very fabric of existence, you successfully brought me home, and I am grateful. I thanked you, finally. But I should have said more than that. I never told you that I'm most thankful to you for getting the chance to know Mabel and Mason. They give me hope for the future."

"OK, ya ready to go?"

Ford nodded. "There are no remnants here. The quantum disruptors vaporized any alien elements. The—call it a cosmic egg—that was inside the meteorite transformed into some kind of energy and zoomed away. Yes, we can go now, and I can sleep easier."

The climb up was harder than the climb down, but at last they coiled their rope and set off for the car, seven miles and a bit away—according to Ford's GPS—under the sassafras trees in the overlook. As they slogged along, Ford said, "I hope you'll advise me about this, Stanley. I'm not really up on how to counsel teenagers."

"Ya simply have a man to man talk," Stanley suggested. "Then play it by ear. Just remember—he's good enough for Wendy. In fact, him and her are perfect for each other. Get him to realize that an' I think the job's done." Stan stopped, Ford stopped, and Stan put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "An' one last thing. For God's sake, Ford, when you talk to Dipper—tell him we love him."

The End


End file.
